Andor and the Contradictions of Star Wars

 

The showrunner Tony Gilroy said he was not a fan of the Star Wars series. However, as one of the best script doctors in Hollywood, he got roped into fixing up "Rogue One" and subsequently was given the (I'm sure a lot of) money to do the spinoff series "Andor" for Disney's streaming business. 

Nevertheless, the relatively dark and menacing "Andor" series caused me to revisit the contradictions in the heart of George Lucas' original Star Wars series. Critics have commented that "Andor" is tonally different from the SW franchise and more "adult" in its depiction of war, police state, oppression, the prison-industrial complex, and revolution.  

For example, the torture scene is quite disturbing in "Andor", even though it is much less graphic than the scene in "The Last Jedi," but we should not forget that there was also one in A New Hope, in which Princess Leia was tortured by Darth Vader (who turned out to be her father, think about that symbolism for a moment) with no apparent effect afterward. (Yes, when they want to show an entity is evil and to induce sympathy and outrage, the go-to device is that they torture and rape/kill women. Everyone knows the trick.)

Another example of parallel plot is how a reluctant central character makes the decision to join the rebellion. Does anyone still remember the turning point of Luke Skywalker? The imperial troopers killed Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru. Similarly, it was only when his mother Maarva had died that Andor decided to stop running from his destiny. His father had been executed by the Empire years ago. Of course Maarva was not directly killed by the empire, but it was close enough. 

So my argument is that Gilroy was really trying to hew pretty close to the original SW, which is pretty dark and sinister if you look closely. And yet, the series also "disneyfied" itself from the start, making it palatable to the American mass audience. It was Lucas' conscious decision to make the deaths completely bloodless, when SW was financed by 20th Century Fox. Hell, the dead characters even come back as smiling, approving ghosts (a device cleverly echoed but not exactly endorsed in "Andor" with the holographic recording of Maarva).

This manipulation cannot be blamed on Disney's production of episodes 7 to 9, unless we consider the decades-long effect Disney had had on the American popular culture since it started to convert dark and vicious folktales into cute cartoons. I was struck, in "Attack of the Clones", how indifferent and meaningless the action scenes were, because the killing was enacted upon thousands and thousands of fleshless droids. There is no feeling, no stake, and nobody cares. But it was intentional to protect the audience from seeing any blood and real death.  

We should also consider the contradiction at the heart of SW. What is the empire an allegory for? Commentators and the public assume that the empire refers to the British Empire and the rebellion the American revolution --- All the imperial characters spoke with an English accent while the heroes spoke with an American accent, and that's no accident. Sometimes Lucas tacitly approved of this interpretation, but occasionally he said openly that ROTJ is an allegory of the Vietnam war, implying that the empire is the American one. Nevertheless, he took care not to be too loud about it. 

I gotta hand it to his sophisticated manipulation. George Lucas is the best case of "having his cake and eat it" that I have ever seen. This is how you do it, baby! We do not need to worry that the audience may recognize themselves in the evil empire (and some actually do so). Contrary to the logical awareness "Are we the baddies?", the human instinct shields people from such uncomfortable reflections, and everyone believes he is one of the good guys. Besides, Ronald Reagan told everyone who the evil empire was --- those guys over there! 

The Princess and the Queen

 

After finishing the first season of HBO's House of the Dragon, I hastily read the novella on which the series is based, "The Princess and the Queen", published in 2013. The novella is not that interesting, as this fake-history format barely provides any room for character development. The reader has zero opportunity to bond or identify with any character. Nevertheless, it is easy to see that GRRM has some degree of emotional investment in three characters: Prince Daemon, his final lover Nettles, and another bastard dragonrider named Addam. As for the rest of the aristocracy of the Targaryen court, he has shown very little sympathy for either the Greens or the Blacks. He is more interested in the random nature of history and how the average people are crushed regardless of who rules. The story might also be a sly ode to the surprising power of an angry and desperate populace, which is not something the American TV industry or culture is interested in, and I doubt the series will be able to do it justice in future season(s). 

The novella itself is not all that good, but I am glad I finally read it. Why? Because it is obviously the clue to the laughable dumpster fire that is the ending of the Game of Thrones series. In the last two seasons, without any ASOIAF materials to go on, the pathetic incompetence of Benioff and Weiss was on full display with various dead-end plot lines and out-of-character characters and stiff, trite, cringy dialogs and nonsensical twists to hastily wrap up the series. The worst choice was in the disintegration of Daenerys Targaryen's character and her demise. It's not that she could not, theoretically, become a megalomania and threat to civilization, but the way to get there is a prime example of how lazy, unimaginative, and dumb the writers are.

Regardless, it has now become clear to me that they did not even come up with that storyline with their own mind, which is not surprising. Nearly everything they had independently come up with was either stupid or nonsensical, or both. The only interesting ideas and twists in the series, some executed well and some poorly, came from GRRM. One could safely bet that Sansa's betrayal of Uncle Littlefinger came from GRRM, even if not done in the way shown on TV, while the death of the Night King at Arya's dagger did NOT come from GRRM. Now I can also safely bet that Daenerys' turn into a tyrannical idiot after her occupation of King's Landing also came from GRRM, except not from ASOIAF but instead from Rhaenyra. In addition, the writers took the idea of the scorpion, a dragon-slaying weapon akin to shoulder-launch missiles, from this and perhaps other related stories.

It is curious to observe that all the other 5 or 6 prequels in development were killed off by HBO, while the only 2 series that have received enough money to show up on our screens are both based on a single idea of a woman in power who is stupid and tyrannical and is severely punished for her folly. There is one remaining series in development, which centers on the most boring leads in the ASOIAF, Jon Snow. How very predictable.

Anyway, now that I am fairly confident that GRRM did not tell the bozos the full ending of the series, I have my own idea about how Daenerys came to her demise. As I previously pointed out, the final chapter of Book 5 in ASOIAF previewed the battle between her and the army of the Others. That is the end. She and the Others will perish together, bringing about the end of the winter and leading Westeros into a new cycle. Even The Princess and the Queen has demonstrated GRRM's fondness for mutual destruction. I don't think he can resist the elegant symmetry of such an ending.

Karma (Yoga Sutra Notes #2)

A while ago I wrote about how wars may come and go, but conflicts and hatred do not go away, and no one changes their mind, after watching an episode of La Guerra E Finita. After learning the original concept of karma, it appears that, again, the ancient Indians had thought about it before. Maybe they had thought about everything. 

I am not sure whether the common understanding of karma could be credited to the Buddhist definition of karma, ie, a moralistic understanding of good and bad, reward and punishment. Indeed, I have heard many times that one's suffering and misfortune in the current life is the result (or perhaps "payment") of having done wrong in the past life, like eating meat or harming people, while good fortune is a reward for having done good things in the past life, like being vegetarian. The idea is to encourage (?) people to do good in the current life to ensure a better life next time, lest one comes back as a worm or a donkey or something. 

But the definition of karma in the Yoga Sutras or the Sankya school of philosophy is apparently not so judgmental or ... shall we say, Pavlovian. According to the commentaries collected in the book, karma refers to the endless chain of events that is linked by consequence. One action leads to the next, and the next to the next, and on and on. The Indian mythology is less interested in the origin of everything, when and how the world was created (although there is no lack of origin myths there) than in the perpetuation of change and flutters. What we are doing now has an endless chain of cause and effect before and after us. One could argue, for example, that in 1787, the colonies failed to reach an agreement to abolish slavery or, perhaps more precisely, agreed to preserve slavery as a union, and that occurrence has created an endless chain of consequences that stretches into today and may never end ... until climate change redraws the world map, maybe.

This is a way of looking at any history, from macro to personal, as a continuum that extends beyond major historical events or one's own lifespan. The idea of reincarnation, or samsara, seems scientifically absurd, unless you view it as a metaphor to describe the continuity running through generations. Indeed, the action of one generation reverberates into the next generation, and the next generation into the next, and so on, vastly overwhelming the random de novo mutations. This is karma, and it is a much more accurate description of reality than the "big story"-based theory of humanity in time.

It seems to me that the episodic and event-based view of history (again, it could be either macro or personal) is easier to create and easier to digest for the vast majority of us near-sighted and feeble-minded average people. I don't know what it was about the ancient Indian thinkers that allowed them to come up with such astute and profound insight into the human existence. Maybe wisdom passed down from aliens? (I kid! I kid!)

Being educated in the feeble-minded non-Indian cultures, I have spent much energy and effort in my life to understand how and why we got to this place and where we originally came from (thanks, Jared Diamond!), as if understanding the series of logical links that make me who and where I am can free me from the chain (pun intended but all credits to the Indians) of karma. But the Indians were right: In the subjective experience of an individual, there is no beginning and no end, only a series of consequences within the limits of one life. The ripples of all the karma that led to my life are practically unknowable to me, and so are the ripples of all the karma I am generating, flowing into the future and beyond, mixed with countless other ripples.

The Yoga Sutras contains some vague advice about diminishing the effect of karma within this life and for the next life, such as eating vegetarian food and being nice, or you can devote your life to worshipping a god (but it didn't specify which one, Shiva? Vishnu? Parvati?), which are hardly as specific or didactic as the "donate money now or you come back as a fly" school of persuasion. Rather, the emphasis is on the practice of yoga. This practice of yoga, which Patanjali talks about over and over, is to recognize and experience how the body and mind, thoughts and feelings, the whole lot, is a shell, and even when you shed all of them, there still exists a white light of one's essence, a singular life force completely independent of the shell, that glows on its own energy. (Interestingly, Buddhism does not believe in purusa, but I don't know the details.) What does that mean? I have no idea, but I like it.

Tár: A Detail

 

It seems funny to me that many people, including some esteemed and highly experienced critics, consider Todd Field's intention for the movie to be a stand against the "cancel culture," a term now used almost exclusively by the right wing in the political and cultural power struggle to clobber the annoying rise of nontraditional factions in society. I suppose certain choices made by Field could cause this conception, although I do believe it is a misconception. 

This is a meticulously plotted movie with barely visible threads woven into a tapestry that often obscures the intention through mumbled dialogues, half-finished sentences, glimpses of email text, and scenes that cut away from accusations and depositions. Perhaps he is too clever for his own good, and it serves him right to be misunderstood. 

I am fairly certain I can tell where Field's sympathy lies. There are many little clues throughout the movie that consistently support my interpretation. But I will bring up just one detail that I have not seen anyone mention (not that I've read every review online) ---

This movie made the extraordinary choice of putting the film's supporting crew on the opening credits, while leaving the actors to the end credits. The list of names of gofers and assistants and hair and makeup people and stunt actors and drivers and accountants and marketing people went on for several minutes before the movie started, which is a prime location that is almost always reserved for only the stars and the important people: cinematographer, music, screenwriter, and director. I have NEVER seen any movie putting the support people first.  

In the background of the extraordinary opening credits, a song was played, and all the while I wondered what language it was. Spanish? French? No. It only became clear in the opening Q and A between Lydia Tar and Adam Gopnik of The New Yorker that this was the music of the indigenous people of Peru, which served as one of many stepping stones, or body ladders, that built her glowing career. 

Well, that seems to have gone over people's heads, who have probably also missed the face of an indigenous man in Lydia's dream, shown after the other more familiar faces of people who had been USED by Lydia.

Still don't get it? Consider the denouement of the movie, when Lydia is told by the Filipino boy in the boat that the reason why there are crocodiles so far up the river is the Americans. Many years ago, the film crew for that Marlon Brando movie (obviously referring to Apocalypse Now) put the crocodiles in the river, and now they can't swim in the water. Thanks a lot, you Imperialist shits. 

Yes, it's all intentional. None of it is an accident.

Everyone and his mother is throwing around the word "power" without any follow-up discussion in regards to this movie, as if they could actually recognize it when its manifestations hit them between the eyes. No, the movie is about exploitation, even if it is very coy about it. I wonder if Todd Field thinks it's funny to fool people into thinking he supports right-wing conservatives on the matter of poor canceled celebrities who have exploited many. Is this a joke to him?

Citta: The Brain (Yoga Sutras Notes #1)

 

In this book, Bryant translated and collected major commentaries and explanations of the famously brief and sometimes cryptic sutras by Patanjali. I especially find his approach of mixing certain Sanskrit keywords in the text to be instructive. In these instances, the non-interchangeability between Sanskrit concepts and their (supposedly) corresponding English words is palpable. Despite sharing the Indo-European roots, the non-translatability is probably due to the massive distance in time. 

It is hard to overstate the vast theoretical context behind the brevity of this manual. I am crawling my way through it slowly, and every few pages I am surprised by the deep insight into human psychology that was gleamed by the ancient Indian scholars and practitioners. I am in awe of these insights, not necessarily as a source of mysticism or exotic wisdom, but rather by the exhaustive and sophisticated examination of ... neurological patterns of the human mind. 

Take for example the concept of citta, which refers to an organ that provides three types of functions: buddhi (roughly translated as intelligence), ahankara (the sense of self, I-ness, ego), and manas (the part of the mind that performs thinking and sensory processing). 

Looking at these three components, one cannot help but be struck by their accuracy in describing some of the major activities of the brain. In the most basic aspect, it is now well established that one of the major functions of the brain is to centrally process and interpret the excitatory signals transmitted from the peripheral nerves (ie, manas), which allows humans to perceive and react to the environment. This neurological discovery in modern medical science was fairly recent and based on the anatomical exploration and understanding of the nervous system. The definition of buddhi, which emphasizes discernment and judgment, largely matches what is referred to as the executive function in neuroscience, which is carried out by the prefrontal cortex. 

Of course, I am by no means saying the ancient Indian theory of the brain is complete or comparable to modern neuroscience. Several other types of brain functions that we now know are not described in this theoretical system, such as the emotional and instinctive activities in the limbic system and the structure and activities related to learning and memory (the hippocampus and more). Their technologies and research framework did not allow the ancients to realize that major bodily functions, such as body temperature, breathing, and heart rate, are linked to the brain stem. Nevertheless, I am greatly impressed by how far they had gone using only direct and empirical observations of the mind. The power of their self observation is astounding and unparalleled. (Perhaps this is in some ways related to the pursuit of "detachment", but that's a topic for another day.) 

The examination of the sense of self is particularly fascinating and sophisticated. Recently I am intermittently reading a book by the German psychiatrist Fritz Simon, in which he explains how every concept is defined by what is inside versus outside a border (ie, what it is versus what it is not). It is a difficult and abstract concept that I have a hard time grasping and have never seen described in basic psychological theories. Yet the ancient Indians realized that the human mind (or what is now widely referred to as "consciousness", a fashionable and self-aggrandizing buzzword since the 2000s) is self-referential. 

Another eerily accurate insight is that the brain's existence is proven through its constant activities, defined as vrttis. The ancient Indians asserted that our endless thoughts, feelings, reactions, dreams, and spontaneous, internally generated sensations, are the manifestations of a physical organ that is alive and working. This insight alone outstrips Descartes by hundreds or a thousand years. The Indian philosophers explained it in an elegant analogy: Citta is the sea, and vrttis is the waves.

Fiction

In the year of 3001, Captain Gerald Clement set up an outpost in the Omega quadrant to monitor the only planet E118208 in the system RTM1921-14, where complex life forms had recently been discovered. The unmanned small space station faithfully orbited E118208, and the robots were able to recorded photos and data on the surface for many millennia. 

When the space station started its monitoring activities, there were at least two species that appeared to be sentient co-existing on the surface of E118208, which were named Nooton and Qadyl. They were approximately the same in body size and level of intelligence. Nootons looked somewhat like octopuses, and Qadyls looked like a little like lobsters. The number of each species on the planet was roughly equal. 

Naturally, it was surprising to humans that two intelligent species could co-exist in peace, unlike Homo sapiens and other hominids. Soon it became clear that these two species were highly dependent on each other for survival. Specifically, Nootons required a nutrient secreted by a fungus living inside the brain of Qadyls, which flows out of Qadyls' shell in the "neck" area, while Qadyls could not complete a reproductive cycle without eating one of a Nooton's eight tentacles. 

The consumption did not kill the organism, unless someone suddenly became gripped with greedy madness and bit off a Qadyl's head or all eight limbs of a Nooton. This would only happen if one species greatly outnumber the other, causing an imbalance in the nutrition supply and widespread hunger. As both species were intelligent, they carefully controlled their appetite and maintained a comfortable equilibrium in numbers to prevent decimating each other and, consequently, their own demise.

It should be noted that both species primarily ate other organisms on the planet for energy. What they needed from each other were certain essential nutritional elements that they could not make in their own bodies or obtain from other organisms. Both species probably co-evolved for millions of years to reach the current state of symbiosis. 

Humans followed the data transmitted from E118208 for a few hundred years. Some research papers were published, but the field remained small. Because neither Nootons nor Qadyls developed space travel technology to pose a threat to humanity, interest in the planet cooled off and monitoring became a low priority, leaving the robots to do the boring work year after year. 

This changed when war broke out among human colonies in the neighboring Psi quadrant. A lone vessel escaped the battlefield, carrying a platoon of surviving soldiers, and landed on E118208. Even though the condition was far from ideal, these humans tried to set up a colony, or at least a temporary shelter, on the planet to wait out the war. As the number of humans increased through reproduction and the colony expanded, both Nootons and Qadyls felt threatened and began attacking humans. The conflicts lasted over a century, and all three species suffered heavy losses. 

When one clan of Qadyl fighters finally invaded the center of the human settlement, they were exposed to a large dose of radiation from the human spaceship. In the post-human years, the subsequent generations of these Qadyls grew bigger and sharper claws. Over time, these mutant Qadyls with improved "bioweapons" out-completed all other clans of wildtype Qadyls. Through crossbreeding and competition, after only a few generations, nearly all Qadyls on the planet had big and sharp claws. Nevertheless, they still all needed Nooton tentacles.

Perhaps it was the war with humans or fierce competition within its own species, this new breed of Qadyls tasted the fruits of increasing aggression and sought to produce ever more offspring. To achieve this, more Nootons were needed, so Qadyls began to domesticate Nootons. They capture Nootons from the wild, confined them in small farms, and bred as many as possible. They would chop off all but one of a Nooton's tentacles to maximize the efficiency of production. As Nootons were as intelligent as Qadyls, they were given treatments to keep them docile and content. Wild Nootons disappeared rapidly to the verge of extinction, as those who refused to be domesticated were killed. 

To increase the number of Nootons on the farms, Qadyl scientists developed a technology to grow their brain fungus in nutritional solutions, making it more convenient to support the Noonton population growth, which in turn led to Qadyl population growth. This went on for another thousand years. 

One of the last few Nooton clans in the wild realized that the key to Qadyls' dominance came from the aliens that briefly invaded the planet. So they found the spaceship, now buried and forgotten, and dug out the engine, which still contained radioactive fuel. The Nootons took the material home and exposed as many among themselves as possible. Some Nootons died, but some mutants emerged, who could produce a chemical in one or more of their tentacles that is deadly to Qadyls but harmless to themselves. The Nootons kept this development secret for several generations and devoted all their resources to breeding these mutants and training them for combat, until the mutant Nootons were so numerous that they could no longer hide from Qadyls. 

In the war between Nootons and Qadyls, the Nootons suffered heavy losses but eventually won. They liberated all the domesticated Nootons. Nooton scientists carefully selected individuals carrying the mutant genes to mate with those previously domesticated, while those without the mutant genes were not allowed to produce offspring. Within a few generations, almost all Nootons were now carrying a deadly weapon against Qadyls. 

Even the mutant Nootons continued to need the essential nutrient from Qadyls. However, the Qadyl technology made it easier to grow large quantity of the fungus. Now Nootons only have to keep a few Qadyls around to maintain the source and quality of the fungus supply. Taking to heart the lessons of the past millennium, Nootons decided not to domesticate Qadyls. Instead, they maintained a low number of Qadyls living freely in the wild, their numbers only a fraction of that of Nootons, so that Qadyls would never become a threat again. The two species still needed each other to stay alive, for now. 

In the year 4001, Captain Hilda Chu arrived at the long-forgotten space station and discovered the extraordinary history in the records. 

The Gaze

 

Today I saw some discussion on action movie twitter about Tiger Shroff (pictured above). But I have not seen any of his action movies and am not going to talk about him. Rather, I have been puzzled for a few years now as to why Bollywood is rapidly filling up with ever-more-perfectly muscled male stars. 

Sure, Bollywood (and Hollywood, and profit-driven cinema in any country) has always been full of very beautiful women. The male gaze blah blah blah. The standard for male beauty was always pretty lax. Even the unquestionable No. 1 leading man of the past generation, Shah Rukh Khan, hardly looked like a magazine model at his peak. I am sure Indian cinema had no shortage of heartthrobs back in the day, but the average level of looks alone among male leads was way lower than female leads. 

Something started to change in the 2000s. When I saw Lagaan in 2001, Aamir Khan looked more buff than an average guy, but still within normal range, but 13 years later in PK the older Aamir had even bigger muscles. There was a wave sweeping through Mumbai, apparently, that was forcing every actor, even the big-name ones, to bulk up to ever higher levels of physical appearance. 

Akshay Kumar, himself a martial arts practitioner, once said that he and another actor were the only two guys in Bollywood who had not used steroids. I believe him. I am not categorically against anabolic steroid use, particularly when it is a necessity for one's livelihood. Who am I to judge? But I am extremely curious about the forces behind this phenomenon. Who are they building the muscles for? The female gaze? Or another manifestation of the male gaze? Or both? (In the US context, excessive body-building has a rather ambiguous meaning of both hypermasculinity and homoeroticism, which might not be mutually exclusive.)

I always suspect that Indian popular culture has the instinct to appeal to the most massive of the masses. So it is fascinating to wonder what this trend says about the masses and the time. Whose gaze are these muscle men appealing to?